


Tag, You're It

by AnotherGallavichLove



Series: Prompts [102]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Childhood Friends, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform, Time Skips, Tiny!Ian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I remember you crying into my chest, and fucking eating all of my popsicles, it’s just… fucking weird man”</p><p>“Weird that I grew up?” Ian asked through a husky whisper. “Or weird that you really want to kiss me right now?” Straight up, straight forwards and no other kinds of straight whatsoever - there it was.</p><p>-</p><p>Based on this prompt (I kind of combined it with this original idea that I had myself, because it worked out): i dont know if you are taking prompts right now, this was something i was planning on making a big fic myself, but i dont have the oportunity right now, so if you could make a a one shot of that typical "meeting each other one day and never forgetting it but not keeping each other's contacts so they figure they will never see each other again but like 5 years later they run into the other and BANG" (i'll leave it to you for coming up with the details, if you feel like writing this), i'd love it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tag, You're It

The ceaseless, frantic knocking on Mickey’s door was what forced him to tear his attention away from the television screen and whatever shitty ass episode of South Park that was currently playing on the channel. He looked at the white wood for a second, thinking about ignoring it as he lifted his bottle of beer back up to his lips again, taking another swallow. The knocking, however, continued and soon it registered with him who it had to be. The fist sounded little, somehow more hollow and the knocking seemed to come from further down than it usually did. Even Mickey realized that it would be kind of shitty of him to keep ignoring it, so it didn’t take all too long before he sighed, leaving the television, placing his beer onto the table in front of him as he pushed himself up to stand, walking over to the door and opening it.

 

Just as he had expected, he looked down and saw a head full of red curls on top of a face covered in freckles.

 

“Hi, Mickey, can I come in?” Ian sounded just as happy as he almost always did, that toothless grin staring up at the teenager. Mickey couldn’t quite remember exactly how he had managed to become friends with a six year old - or why the fuck this particular six year old didn’t seem to find him as terrifying as most adults did. But somehow the kid coming over to his house had become somewhat of a regular thing. Maybe the main reason was that through multiple conversations, Mickey had figured out that his home-life probably wasn’t the best set up, and Gallagher was kind of sweet so he rarely had the heart to turn him down whether he came over to his house laughing or crying - both of which were common. It wasn’t as if Mickey had a lot of shit to do during the days anyway. If his brothers wanted him with them on a run or a robbery they went during the night.

 

“Yeah, kiddo” Mickey’s right hand landed in the soft curls as he ruffled them, gently pushing the little boy inside of the house and closing the door behind them. “What are you up to?” Mickey had his back turned towards the closed front door now, looking down at the grinning kid.

 

“Not much. My mommy is acting weird again so Fiona said to get out of the house for now” Mickey nodded in understanding; the words sounded kind of sad in a way, but of course Ian didn’t really seem to understand them, so his tone was just as happy as it always was - unless he was crying, of course. Mickey had heard Gallagher mention his mom acting strange a few times over the past few months, but never once had he understood what exactly the kid meant, and he didn’t really care to either. For some fucked up reason Mickey still felt the need to take care of Ian if he could - even if it was just letting him into his house to watch a movie. Maybe he saw him as a little brother, or maybe he somehow saw himself mirrored in the kid - he hadn’t thought about it much.

 

“A’ight, kid. You want to watch a movie or some shi - thing?” Mickey lifted his hand up to the back of his neck, scratching the skin. He really had been trying not to curse around Ian all too much - no matter how difficult it was. He wasn’t sure why, really - this was the fucking south side, everyone cursed, day and night, but he had never heard Ian do it so maybe he felt some kind of a responsibility in keeping it that way.

 

“Yeah” Ian nodded, turning around and walking over towards the kitchen, opening the freezer door as if it was nothing - fuck, maybe he was spending a little bit too much time here now that Mickey thought about it. “You know you can curse around me. My brother does it a lot. My sister too” Ian said, walking back to the livingroom with a popsicle in his hand, trying to pick the plastic wrapper off of it, not succeeding one single bit, the small, barely visible eyebrows over his eyes furrowing in frustration.

 

“Here” Mickey said, holding his hand forwards for Ian to put the treat into so that he could help him, then he handed it back to the kid, the freckled covered face looking pleased and happy once again as Mickey crumpled the paper up, throwing it into the bin, almost missing it and shrugging. “Yeah? Can I just throw on whatever or you already have a movie in mind?” Mickey asked then, watching the little boy climb up onto the couch and lean back, his legs almost just reaching past the cushion. The one thing that he had noticed in the past few months since they had started hanging out - well, it almost had to be a year by now - was that the boy had extremely strong opinions. One time Ian had been there late at night - late for a kid, it had been like seven or eight or something - and Mickey had ordered a pizza with olives on it, and Ian hadn’t taken a single bite just because it ‘looked ew’ like what the fuck. Since then he always asked before he did anything.

 

“Goonies!” Ian squealed as he happily continued licking at the popsicle, the blue color being spread out all over his lips and Mickey mentally cursed himself for letting him have one, knowing that he would have blue, sugary shit all over the house once Ian went home. Alas, he shut his mouth about it and found the Goonies DVD, starting it up before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to the kid, wrapping his hand around his beer again, lifting it to his lips right as the movie started. Maybe it was pathetic that he was almost seventeen years old and his best friend was a six year old kid, but in the end - who really gave a shit?

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey’s eyes were closed, lids heavy as his body rested right on the very edge of sleep. His arms were bent, hands resting on top of his stomach, the sound of the television mumbling somewhere in the back of his head. His chest moved up and down at a slow pace, the old, shitty ass fan in the corner making some of the black fabric of his muscle tee move around a little bit. Mickey was pretty sure that the thing was only moving around the hot summer air and not actually cooling anything down, but at least it was better than nothing.

 

This summer had been hell so far. His brothers were out of town for the day, and Mandy was with her friends or some shit, so Mickey had the house to himself for once, meaning that he could take a nap whenever the fuck he wanted to - which was exactly what he was doing when that recognizable, frantic knocking appeared on his door again. He only had to hear one or two knocks before it registered in his brain who was on the other side of it.

 

Mickey’s eyes flew open, and he forced himself not to be annoyed. The kid was fine, he was just really fucking tired right now. Alas, for some reason he pushed himself up faster than usual - something about the way that the knocking sounded now was faster, and somehow more desperate. Either Ian was really fucking high on sugar, or - yeah. Mickey got his answer when he flung the door open and looked down at the freckled covered face, flushed red by the tears and the sadness. Something about the sight tugged at Mickey’s heart, and he immediately opened the door wider, letting the little kid inside of his house.

 

“Thank - thank you” The high pitched voice said, the tiny human walking inside and heading straight for the couch, Mickey closing the door and following him, the dark, thick eyebrows knitted into a frown. Whenever Ian came over to his house this upset, the reason usually had something to do with his mother, sometimes his father. Mickey still didn’t know a fuck ton of shit about Gallagher’s family - he had only seen his sister once or something, never his parents or the brothers he talked about. The sister seemed fine, she was a few years older than Ian. Maybe eleven or twelve, Mickey wasn’t sure, but she also seemed broken in the same way that Ian did sometimes. Tired in a way that a kid never really should be.

 

“What happened, kiddo, huh? You want to talk about it?” Mickey asked, something that he almost always said whenever he saw Ian cry - he just wasn’t sure how else to handle it. He didn’t know how to handle people crying, much less a fucking kid crying. The first time he had been freaked out as fuck, but it had happened half a dozen times since and by now he had it down to some kind of a science. He would ask if Ian wanted to talk about it, Ian would say what was bothering him and then Mickey would give him a popsicle or a soda and they would watch a movie. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to have it down to a routine if said routine made the kid feel better.

 

Ian was sitting on the couch as he usually did, his short legs stretched out in front of him, barely reaching the end of the cushion; Mickey sat down on the coffee table in front of him, the frown stuck on his face as he watched Ian fight to regain his breath as he tears started to calm down, even if just a little bit. Mickey stayed silent, waiting for Ian to begin to talk and explain why he was so hysterical.

 

“My… my mommy - and, and - and my sister, and - “ The words were barely understandable through the tears and the choking voice, so Mickey put a hand on his shoulder, looking into the red flushed, green eyes.

 

“You want a glass of water or something? Calm down?” From what Mickey could remember, he had never really seen the kid quite this upset, and it tugged at his heart. Obviously they couldn’t have the kind of friendship where they really talked about issues in their lives or smoked pot or drank beer together, but in a way Ian was in fact Mickey’s friend, so of course it bothered him to see him this upset.

 

He didn’t like it one fucking bit, Gallagher was a bright kid. He didn’t deserve all the misery that he seemed to be put through right now. The kid did nothing but nod at Mickey’s offer, bringing his closed fists up to his eyes, rubbing some of the tears out of them, his breath hitching every once in a while.

 

A minute later, Mickey was walking back to him with a glass of water in his hand, handing it to the kid who immediately swallowed the liquid in one go, seeming as if it successfully calmed him down, at least a little bit. Mickey sat back down onto the coffee table, looking at the kid.

 

The tears had stopped pouring down his cheeks by now, but his face was still just about completely flushed red, and Mickey was starting to become a little bit scared, wondering what the actual fuck could have gotten him this sad. He accepted the empty glass that the kid handed him, placing it onto the table beside himself, waiting as Gallagher caught his breath a little bit more, and then the small, weak words reached Mickey’s ears, his voice still choked as fuck from all of that crying.

 

“We - we’re moving” Ian looked down into his lap as he spoke. “Fiona says we have to move to Wisconsin, to our aunt because mommy can’t take care of us anymore. But - but I don’t want to go” Mickey raised his eyebrows, forcing down the uneasiness than came with the thought of never seeing the kid again; this wasn’t about him. Instead he hummed, and nodded a little bit, Ian wiping some of his tears once again, his face still almost completely flushed red, his lips parted and soaked with tears.

 

“Well, there’s probably a reason they say you gotta go, right? Maybe it’ll be good” Mickey tried - he had nothing. What the fuck else what he supposed to say anyway? The truth was that it probably would end up being a good thing in the end, Mickey didn’t know a ton of stuff about what went in within Ian’s family but it obviously wasn’t all child friendly, happy shit. There was obviously a reason why somebody had ended up deciding the kids were better of with someone else, no matter how much Mickey would miss actually having a good reason to spend his saturdays watching crappy ass cartoons.

 

“No - no it won’t be good” Ian protested, his voice cracking in a way that let Mickey know that he was on the edge of tears once again while he looked down into his lap, wiping the water off of his face, his breath hitching again. “I don’t want to move, you won’t be there” At that Mickey couldn’t help but let his face soften once again as he watched the little boy wipe some more tears off of his cheek - Ian was going to miss him. That’s why he was so upset. Mickey hadn’t realized that he really had had a ton of impact on the kid, but now when he thought back on it, he supposed Ian had to have spent more time in this house than anywhere else. He was here at least every other day - eating greasy food and watching shitty ass cartoons - maybe it wasn’t so strange that Ian was upset. Mickey was too - not sobbing in his bed upset, of course - but it would be sad not having the kid here anymore.

 

“Oh, come on kid. I’m not that much fun” Mickey tried to joke, a smile on his face as he nudged Ian’s foot, not quite knowing how to get him to lighten up, he had never seen him upset to quite this degree in the past. Ian didn’t laugh, though, he just continued crying, shaking his head with his gaze locked down into his own lap for a beat longer before he looked up at Mickey.

 

“Yes, you’re - you’re the only one who ever listens to me” Mickey could feel his heart breaking even a little bit further with those words, all of the amusement falling off of his face, being replaced by a deep frown. Ian sounded so genuinely heartbroken, and so innocent - how the fuck was this not supposed to be affecting Mickey? “You’re my best friend” Ian continued, his little chest moving up and down frantically under the way too large long sleeved t shirt that had to have been passed down to him from one of his older brothers - or maybe he only had one brother who was older, fuck if Mickey could remember.

 

A part of Mickey wanted to say that Ian was his best friend to, but he doubted that that would make Ian feel even a little bit better - it would only make them both even more upset. Of course Mickey wasn’t crying or some shit, it wasn’t that bad - but this fucking sucked.

 

“Come” Mickey said, reaching his arms out. He wasn’t a hugger - he had never been a hugger. The only time that he had ever hugged before was when Ian had ran over to him at some point and wrapped his little arms around his hips, and Mickey had somewhat awkwardly returned it.

 

Now, Mickey just felt as if maybe a hug was the only thing that would even remotely help Ian calm down. The little boy nodded, coughing once as he wiggled himself off of the couch, taking the half step towards the table and into the teenager’s chest, some of his snot surely being spread onto the black fabric of Mickey’s t shirt, but Mickey didn’t care. He returned the hug lightly, just leaning his chin on top of the little boys’ head, moving his open hand over his back a little bit, finally feeling the kid calm down, even if it was just a little bit.

 

“I’ll call you, alright, kiddo?” He tried, hearing the sound of Ian still crying a little bit, but the sounds were muffled by his shirt, the tiny arms wrapped around his upper body, though not quite reaching all the way around. “Maybe we can even hang out at some point” It wasn’t completely impossible, it wasn’t as if Wisconsin was all the way across the country exactly, sometimes he and his brothers went on runs there, so though unlikely, it wasn’t impossible he could stop by at some point. And he knew that it would calm the kid down - which it did - the sounds of crying stopped, a muffled word reaching Mickey’s ears.

 

“Promise?” Mickey swallowed, closing his eyes for a second as he forced the lie out of his mouth.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, kiddo. I promise”

 

  
***

 

**Twelve Years Later**

 

***

 

A casual sigh escaped Mickey’s nose along with some of the smoke as he looked down at his feet, watching the old, worn out combat boots take the grey pavement step by step. His tongue moved around in the upper row of his teeth, trying to get a small, annoying ass piece of french fry out, he would have to brush whenever he came home. The summer was starting to wear off just a little bit now as they went towards the end of August; it hadn’t exactly been a completely miserable one, but certainly hotter than what Mickey preferred.

 

The lit cigarette dangled from his right hand, held in between his index and middle finger. The dark washed jeans that he wore most days sat around his legs, the fabric still somewhat too dark and too warm for this weather as the sun was hiding not too far away, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Maybe twenty eight way a little bit too old to still be wearing old rocker tees with the sleeves ripped off, but it wasn’t as if Mickey had much of a reputation to uphold anyway - in fact, his life hadn’t changed all that much since he had been in his late teens and early twenties. Mickey still lived in the same house, the same town, with his brothers - well, with Iggy. Iggy was just as much of a failure as he was himself, Mandy and the others had found partners and had their own apartments and shit now.

 

Of course once in a while, Mickey found himself wondering what exactly he was doing with his life and where he was going, but it didn’t happen nearly as much as you’d think. He had a job, he had a couple of friends at said job, he had somewhat of an active sex life whenever he had the time to go out to a bar and make shit happen - it wasn’t as if he was a hermit. So maybe he wasn’t a complete failure. In fact, he was pretty alright with what his life looked like at the moment. He didn’t need a boyfriend, or a respected high-paying job. That wasn’t who he was, really.

 

Mickey lifted the cigarette back up to his lips, taking another drag, looking up in front of himself instead of down at the ground now. His steps were heavy; it wasn’t even six o’clock yet, but he had been working since eight in the morning, so needless to say he was in desperate need of a beer and whatever shitty ass movie might be playing on the television. Maybe a nap too, that was if Iggy wasn’t home, banging some random chick who’s screams rang all throughout the house. That happened way too often.

 

“You never called” Mickey frowned; he had been lost in his own thoughts for quite a bit, so it took him a second to realize that he was home now, standing a few meters away from his own house. It took him even another beat to realize that the voice was talking to him - and that it was coming from his very own porch. He looked up, seeing a guy that looked to be in his early twenties, or maybe late teens, Mickey wasn’t sure.

 

“I know you?” Mickey asked, that regular, half-rude Milkovich wall around himself. The guy was good-looking, no doubt. He wasn’t all that close, so Mickey couldn’t see any details - like eye color or any kind of shit like that - but he could see that he was tall, quite muscular as well. The hair on top of his head was a red color, quite long - not Kurt Cobain long or anything, though. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans, not too unlike Mickey’s, he had on a pair of combat boots as well, along with a white, thin V-neck.

 

The more Mickey looked at the guy, the more certain he was that he had never seen him before in his entire life - he would remember a person as hot as this guy, fuck. Mickey had stopped walking at the fence, just looking up and waiting for an answer. The guy had somewhat of a smirk on his lips that made Mickey think that maybe he had missed something.

 

“Twelve years ago” The guy said, making Mickey even more confused. “When we moved, you said we could still hang out, but you never called” For a beat or two, Mickey was silent, the pieces falling into place inside of his brain. No… fuck.

 

“Gallagher?” Mickey couldn’t possibly hide the shock that was evident in his voice. Gallagher, that fucking little kid that he had spent so much time with all of those years ago, holy fuck. It had been a long time, Mickey hadn’t even been sixteen, so it wasn’t as if he thought about him a lot or anything. Once a year maybe he wondered what happened to him. And here the answer was. Ian just grinned at him, the smile answer enough that Mickey was completely right, and that he was, in fact - that little stubborn ass kid that Mickey had babysat as a teenager. Mickey’s lips pulled upwards as well, exposing some of his teeth as he started walking up towards the porch, taking the wooden steps easily and reaching the teenager.

 

Their palms pressed together, hands sliding towards themselves until their fingers hooked and they embraced each other into a quick bro-hug, hands hitting the other man’s back as they continued laughing a little bit, both of them amazed at what it was like to see each other again - strange as fuck, if they were both being honest. Twelve years was a long time, not to mention how much they both had aged. They had been kids back then - one more so then the other, but Mickey hadn’t exactly been an adult either.

 

“Been a long time, Mickey” Ian spoke as they let go, the grin not anywhere near leaving his face - Mickey didn’t look much different.

 

“Yeah, no fucking shit” Mickey laughed, looking into his eyes. With every second, he saw things that matched up with what he could remember - there was no doubt Ian didn’t look much like the little kid that had been running in and out of his house, eating popsicles. His face wasn’t at all as round, now he had a square, razor sharp chin, and the freckles were almost nowhere to be seen. But despite the obvious differences and despite the features he seemed to have grown out of, there were still things there that Mickey recognized. The eyes carried the same light that they always had, the hair - though the curls were gone - was the same burnt red color. Yeah - no fucking doubt this was Ian.

 

“You haven’t changed one fucking bit” Ian crossed his arms.

 

“Good to hear I still look sixteen, cut your shit, man.” Mickey laughed, shaking his head. Of course he had changed from sixteen to twenty eight - maybe not as much as Ian had changed from… had he been six? Yeah, well, from a kid to a young adult, whatever - but Mickey had changed too, and they both knew it. Maybe it was strange that they were smiling so much, but they just didn’t have a choice - it had been way too fucking long since they had seen each other. Once upon a time they had hung out every single day. “You want a drink, or something?” Mickey offered then, to which Ian nodded.

 

“Wait, how old are you now?” Mickey asked quickly, turning around with the key in the lock.

 

“Almost nineteen” Ian assured him, and Mickey nodded.

 

“Yeah, you can have a beer” Mickey decided, hearing Ian snort behind them as they entered the house, Mickey closing the door behind them both.

 

“Fuck, it’s like a time machine” Were the first words out of the younger man’s mouth as he took in the livingroom, watching the way that even the dust on the tables hadn’t seemed to move a single inch in twelve years.

 

“Yeah, we don’t do much redecorating” Mickey shrugged, trying to keep from chuckling again as he walked past Ian, heading for the kitchen to get those beers. A part of him still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that that guy was the same little kid that had been running in and out of here like nobody’s business for an entire year. The little kid that had eaten all of his popsicles and left snot on his t shirts. Man, people fucking grow up.

 

Both of them threw themselves down onto opposite ends of the Milkovich couch, Mickey handing Ian one of the bottles before cracking his own open and throwing the cap to the side.

 

“Thanks” Ian said, doing the same with his own. The television was almost muted, but it was showing some kind of shitty ass cartoons, it was probably Iggy that had left it on before he had headed out to work - Mickey should really talk to him about leaving all of the electronics on when he left, jesus fuck, they barely had enough money to pay for this place as it was. With everyone dropping out and it only being Mickey and Iggy left, they needed to be careful.

 

“So what the fuck are you doing back here now, huh, Gallagher?” Mickey asked right before he put the beer to his lips, looking over at Ian. Their backs were leaned against the arm rests, their legs up on the couch as they faced each other. The redhead shrugged, taking a sip of his beer before he looked at Mickey, answering the question.

 

“Fiona has custody now. She got a new job here, and she missed it for some reason. Probably a guy, I don’t keep up” Ian admitted, and Mickey chuckled, nodding as he took Ian in. Not like he had taken him in a few minutes ago when he hadn’t known who he was - quite frankly he couldn’t bring himself to look at him that way now, this was Gallagher, the little kid; Mickey couldn’t think he was hot, that would be fucked up - but he just took him in casually.

 

It was so fucking strange. Back then, his legs hadn’t even reached past the cushion of the couch, and his voice had been so high pitched, his lisp terrible because of the teeth he had been missing. The six year old Mickey had known was so fucking far from the eighteen year old sitting in front of him. This guy was tall, and handsome - his voice was way deeper than Mickey would have thought. But something was the same, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

 

“Anyway, I still live with her even though I finished school. Lip’s in college now, but otherwise all of the other kids do to. I guess I could have stayed there, probably would have been easier” Ian continued talking, Mickey listening as he took another swallow of his beer. “But I felt like moving back, seeing everything” Ian shrugged. “Kind of cool to see you again, too”

 

“Same to you, Gallagher” Mickey nodded - because, yes. Fuck, it was cool to see what that little kid had turned into.

 

 

“What about you?”

“Me?” Mickey snorted, shaking his head a little bit before taking another swallow of the beer and then shrugging, thinking about it for a minute or two before answer. “Not much, man. Got a job, me and Iggy still live here, it’s… not much to brag about” He chuckled, looking at Ian.

 

“Are you happy?” At Gallagher’s question, Mickey just shrugged once again, not all too sure how to answer it. It wasn’t as if he was depressed or some shit. His life was somewhat low-key, and not too different from how it had been in his teenage years, but…

 

“I’m not… not.” Ian seemed satisfied with that answer as he nodded, bringing the bottle of beer back up to his lips to swallow down another amount of the alcoholic liquid.

 

  
***

 

  
“I am only admitting this because I am drunk off my fucking ass, okay?” Ian laughed a few hours later, the dark livingroom covered in a haze of smoke, several empty beer bottles littered all over the livingroom. By now they were both half laying down, their clothed legs thrown together on the couch. Mickey coughed out some of the smoke, laughing as he reached to hand the weed over to the other man, nodding.

 

“Alright, man” They both laughed for a second, Ian breathing out and filling the area with even more smoke as he eased himself to sit up just a little bit straighter, Mickey doing the same, accepting the joint back once again.

 

“Back then…” Ian coughed. “I kind of had a huge fucking crush on you” Mickey held the drug to his lips, breathing in deeply, keeping himself from laughing.

 

“Man, that’s fucked up. You were like my little brother or some shit” Ian laughed at that, neither of them saying anything more for the next minute or something as they got more weed and alcohol into their bodies. Then Mickey put out the tiny, tiny joint that was left, Ian putting his empty beer bottle onto the table before opening his mouth again.

 

“No, no. I know what a little kid I was, but you were so fucking hot” Mickey laughed darkly, swallowing down some more beer from the half empty bottle in his hand; through the smoke filled livingroom and with his drug filled body, he didn’t realize that Ian was being completely serious. He didn’t realize it, in fact, until he spoke again, their eyes connecting. “You still are” Mickey swallowed, raising his eyebrows as they looked into each other’s eyes from across the couch, smoke still floating in the air in between the two of them.

 

“Yeah?” Mickey would be lying if he said that he didn’t find Ian - this version of Ian - incredibly attractive. Not just the way that he looked, but the way he talked and the way that he acted. But that didn’t change the fact that this was the very same guy that he had been babysitting - or kept company - almost every single day for an entire year. The little kid who would leave sticky blue shit all over the house and who would cry if Mickey didn’t order his favorite food. And even if they hadn’t known each other in the past - Ian was eighteen years old. Mickey was twenty eight. That was a huge difference, so the reasons why Mickey was denying his attraction towards this guy could pile up to be the size of Mount Everest.

 

Ian just hummed, though, a look in his eyes that Mickey had never seen before. Then he eased himself forwards a little bit - Mickey was quick, though, to put his hand in between them, shaking his head. Ian raised his eyebrows, his mouth pulling into somewhat of a surprised smirk. He wasn’t close at all, but it was more than clear what had been on his mind.

 

“Nah, man. We ain’t doing that shit. I used to babysit your fucking ass, not to mention I’m drunk off of mine” Mickey protested, his eyebrows raised. Ian stayed still for a beat before sighing comfortably, obviously seeing the older man’s point.

 

“I should probably get back anyway” Ian explained, his voice mumbling, words drawn together because of the large amount of alcohol in his system; neither of them had consumed so much that they would end up stumbling or throwing up, but they certainly weren’t sober - the weed in their lungs didn’t help either. “Fiona’s gonna be wondering soon” Mickey cleared his throat, nodding as he eased himself up a little bit further, following the younger man through the house and towards the front door. As soon as he stood up, he felt the effects of the drugs and alcohol - damn, he remembered when he used to be able to smoke an entire joint by himself and barely feel it half as much as this. Maybe he really was becoming older, fuck. “We’re having a barbecue tomorrow at the house” Ian turned around by the front door, looking at Mickey. Mickey had to almost tilt his head a little bit upwards to look into his eyes - fuck, he really had grown. A lot. Mickey remembered when he used to wrap his arms around his hips and almost had to reach to do so. “It was just gonna be us and Kev and Vee, but Fiona ran into Iggy a few hours ago, so he’s coming. You want to join?”

 

Mickey was quiet for a second, turning the words over inside of his brain a little bit slower than usual thanks to the drug in his system. He was hesitant - not because he wouldn’t like to get to know this Ian better, or because he would ever turn down a barbecue, but there was something in Ian’s eyes. Some kind of glimmer than he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was or why it was there. Either way, he shook it off and nodded.

 

“Yeah, man. Maybe I’ll show” Mickey spoke. “Good seeing you”

 

“You too, Mick”

 

  
***

 

  
A little bit less than twenty four hours later, Mickey was exiting the house next to his brother. The more he had thought about it, the more he had realized that maybe this whole barbecue thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all - seeing Ian last night after so many years had been really fun. Not that he could remember all too much after he had brought the weed out, because they had already been drunk as fuck by then. He remembered Ian hitting on him, and he remembered the invitation to this thing, but not much more.

 

Mickey didn’t really see the whole almost-kiss thing as a big deal in the daylight. They had both been drunk and stoned and in the presence of someone they found attractive, it wasn’t all that strange, and it didn’t mean that anything would ever happen while they were sober. Mickey still stood by the fact that it would feel weird to do anything with Gallagher - or even think about doing anything with Gallagher. It was just… no. No matter how he looked on the outside, he was a little kid to Mickey. That’s what he had to keep telling himself. The last thing he needed right now was to have a fucking crush or some shit. Not to mention the fact that Ian was only eighteen. Mickey was almost thirty - it was wrong.

 

“Why the fuck did she invite you to this shit anyway?” Mickey was the one to break the silence in between him and his brother as they walked along the sidewalk, the sky just barely starting to take that grey color that appeared during the end of the day.

 

“No fucking idea. Free food, though” Iggy shrugged, and Mickey couldn’t really deny that point.

 

  
***

 

  
By the time the brothers walked around the house, the lawn was already littered with people - Mickey recognized Kevin and Veronica, of course, along with a woman in her twenties that could be no one but Fiona. The rest of the people had to be Ian’s other siblings or boyfriends and girlfriends of siblings, Mickey wasn’t all too sure and he didn’t give enough of a fuck to care, if he was being honest. Iggy immediately started heading over to Fiona, probably either to see if there as any food yet, or to see if she could give him a blow job - both were just as likely from what Mickey had heard.

 

The signature smell of a barbecue was spread around, the smoke visible where it was coming off of the grill. Kevin was standing by it together with Fiona, Iggy and one other guy that Mickey didn’t know who he was, but he could easily be Ian’s older brother, if only for the curly hair despite the fact that it wasn’t really red from what Mickey could see.

 

“You came” Mickey turned around at the voice, obviously greeted by Ian who was handing him a beer. His face was neutral, relaxed, but for some reason Mickey felt as if he might be fighting a smile, and for some reason that was just as fucked up, Mickey felt himself do the same as he took the bottle, cracking it open.

 

“Told you I’d try” Mickey nodded, lifting the bottle to his lips, Ian doing the same. Mickey fucking hated himself for it, but he had to take him in once again. It wasn’t as if he was thinking about kissing him or some fucked up shit like that, he wasn’t lying when he said that that was strange to him. But he certainly… looked. He had had an entire day to melt what a man that little kid had grown into - and it wasn’t even a strange thing, twelve years was a long time, of fucking course he was a man now. He looked… so fucking good.

 

That slight hint of a smile on his lips, those red strands of hair on top of his head. That light colored, olive green t shirt that was stretched over his upper body now. When he lifted the beer up to his lips, Mickey could even see the large amount of muscle that was in his arm - jesus - no. No, Mickey couldn’t do this to himself. If he needed to fuck, then he would go to a bar later tonight, he wouldn’t sink so low as to hit on the boy that he used to babysit. Even Mickey wasn’t that pathetic.

 

Ian nodded towards the steps outside of the backdoor of the house, walking over to sit down, Mickey following. They ended up on the same step, backs turned just a little bit towards the railing so that they were facing each other somewhat rather than sitting shoulder to shoulder. The darkness was starting to fall for real now - it wasn’t black or anything yet, but the sky was certainly a dark grey. The sound of the other’s talking over by the grill along with the smell and the sound of the food cooking made this all kind of… cozy. Not that Mickey would ever actually use that word out loud.

 

“I didn’t think you’d show up” Ian admitted after a second or two, drawing Mickey’s eyes to him, connecting with the green pair. “Honestly”

 

“The fuck wouldn’t I show up for? Free food, man” Mickey answered, recycling his older brother’s words and earning a light chuckle from Ian’s lips. The air in between them wasn’t all that tense or anything, it was quite casual. But Mickey couldn’t shake the feeling that Ian wanted something from him - and he didn’t want to even go near admitting the fact that maybe he wasn’t as against it as he should be.

 

“Just… What I said last night” Ian shrugged - that’s what the words were as well, like a shrug. Like they didn’t mean anything, and it calmed Mickey down a little bit. He wasn’t all too sure why he seemed to hold his breath around this version of Ian, sometimes it happened. It had happened almost three times last night, and he couldn’t figure out why.

 

“You’re a kid with a crush, man. Get it” Mickey chuckled, nudging his knee against Ian’s as he took another swallow of his beer looking out over the other people that were gathered all over the yard, talking amongst themselves.

 

“I’m not, you know” The thick, dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the words as Mickey turned to look at Ian, the green eyes filled with seriousness. “A kid. Not anymore” Mickey swallowed. Their faces were way too close. Not feeling each other’s breaths on their lips close, but - close. “You should realize that” Ian muttered. He didn’t seem upset or anything, just as if he was stating a clear fact.

 

It wasn’t as if Mickey didn’t realize that Ian had grown up in twelve years - of fucking course he had. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t find Ian as attractive as Ian found him - probably more so. Fucking red strands of hair that fell into his face and green eyes made for getting lost in - yes, Ian was hot. There. Mickey had admitted it to himself. But so what? What would people think? Alright, Mickey didn't’ give a fucking about other people - what would he think of himself? If something did happen between him and Ian, then… fuck.

 

This was the little freckly kid that used to eat all of his popsicles and laugh high pitched when he cursed. It wasn’t right for Mickey to be thinking this way about him, even if he was an adult now. And once again, he had to remind himself - Ian was eighteen years old. Even if they hadn’t had the kind of history they had, he was still younger than anyone Mickey should even begin to think getting involved with. It wasn’t right on any level ever for him to be attracted to Ian. So he should fight it.

 

“I know that, man” Mickey said, his words for some fucked up reason more of a whisper now. It was because Ian had moved closer, he realized. Not a lot, but yes - they were closer now. Almost feeling each other’s breaths on their lips close. “But…” He tried to gather his thoughts. And he tried to keep his eyes on Ian’s as the night continued starting to fall above them, the mumbling of the other people across the yard still reaching their ears. “I remember you crying into my chest, and fucking eating all of my popsicles, it’s just… fucking weird man”

 

“Weird that I grew up?” Ian asked through a husky whisper. “Or weird that you really want to kiss me right now?” Straight up, straight forwards and no other kinds of straight whatsoever - there it was. The fact that they both knew all too well - Mickey wanted to kiss Ian and Ian wanted to kiss him, and weird or not - it was the truth.

 

“Gallagher” The name was barely audible falling off of Mickey’s lips, fanning Ian’s as the blue eyes flickered around the yard. Fuck. What if somebody saw him kissing the little boy - fuck, the man - that used to be such a little boy, the guy he used to babysit and more or less think of as his little brother? Twelve years made a big difference, but that didn’t mean that it still wasn’t twelve kinds of fucked up.

 

“No one’s looking” Ian whispered back. “Kiss me” Mickey moved his gaze back to Ian’s eyes, looking into them for a second before he looked down to his lips. Fuck, they were beautiful - he was beautiful. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be thinking about it, he shouldn’t be letting him get this close. They used to be… and Ian used to be… and Ian was… and oh, fuck it.

 

“Fuck it” Mickey cursed, putting his beer to the side and standing up, wrapping a strong hand around Ian’s wrist to pull him up as well.

 

  
***

  
As soon as they had rounded the house and were at least out of sight from the other’s, Mickey turned around, using both of his hands to fist the olive green fabric of Ian’s t shirt, pulling him close and crashing their lips together in a complete mess of teeth and tongue, shutting everything out - all of the voices telling him it was wrong, because fuck them right now. He wanted this. They wanted this. Ian wasted zero time before returning the frantic kiss, slamming the older man up against the side of the house in the dusk. Mickey hummed the second he felt Ian’s tongue dominating his mouth, reveling in his strong hands on his waist, both pairs of eyes clenched closed.

 

Controlling the kiss was all but an impossibility in between the two of them, way too much saliva being spread out over their lips, and even some over their chins when Ian pulled away to tilt his head and go in for even more. The inside of his bottom lip slid over Mickey’s chin, and nothing about this said anything but sex. Passion. Maybe it was wrong, but Mickey didn’t give a single fuck in this moment - neither of them possibly could. Ian’s teeth scratching his lips, his tongue shoved down his throat, his hands slipping underneath Mickey’s black shirt to curl around his bare waist, holding him tightly up against that wall - fucking perfect.

 

“Take your fucking clothes off” Mickey breathed in between kisses, the words barely understandable with how much of Ian’s tongue was still crowding his mouth. He had let go of the younger man’s shirt by now, frantically trying to get his jeans open, desperate to have what was inside of them. Ian shushed him - or maybe he breathed ‘shit’ Mickey couldn’t be bothered thinking about it.

 

The hands disappeared from Mickey’s waist for a couple of seconds, just long enough for Ian to undo both of their jeans, the men frantically pushing them down, unable to get to each other fast enough. Maybe it was just them, or maybe it was the thrill of the fact that they could easily get caught - and fuck. What if they did get caught? The thought hadn’t even crossed Mickey’s mind until just now, stupidly enough. “Ian” He breathed against his tongue as Ian seemed to fumble in the back pocket of his own jeans for the stuff. “We could get caught here”

 

“Fuck, that’s what makes it hot” Ian rasped, shutting Mickey up completely by closing his mouth around his tongue, the kiss continuing even more wild and desperate than a moment ago, all of Mickey’s worries being replaced by need. Before he was completely sure what was happening, Ian’s large, strong hands were wrapped around his bare thighs, lifting him up while his jeans laid on the cold ground beneath them. Mickey hummed, wrapping his legs around Ian’s waist and his arms around his neck, helping him carry his own weight as the kiss continued.

 

Somehow Ian was skilled enough to roll the condom onto himself without looking, the kiss only broke when he had to tear the packet of lube open, making sure that he got enough. Mickey’s cheek ended up against his temple as he looked down, the older man’s lips parted while he tried to catch his breath, waiting.

 

Then - after what was probably only a few seconds, but it felt way longer - Ian wrapped his hands around his thighs again, holding him up even higher, pressing him up against the wall of the house, his tongue back inside of his mouth, lips nipping at each other’s. Mickey hummed, returning the kiss just as frantically, his stomach tumbling. The night had almost fallen completely above them as he finally felt the tip of Ian’s cock press into him, his mind going just about completely blank, fingers tugging at the red strands of hair at the back of his neck.

 

Mickey hadn’t looked at Ian’s cock - it was way too dark, and they were way too horny for them to take their time. Now he realized that he was fucking huge, large enough that it stung a little bit despite the fact that it hadn’t at all been a long time since Mickey had had anything inside of him. To keep himself quiet at the sensation, he deepened the kiss even further, craving the taste of Ian on his tongue - fuck, he tasted good, he felt good to. Not just his lips or his cock, but… _he_ felt good. Mickey pushed the thought out of his head, focusing on this. He couldn’t let himself think about what this meant, fuck no.

 

The only sounds around them were the wet smacking of their lips coming together over and over and over again along with the crickets somewhere in the distance, awaking in the night. Ian didn’t move quite immediately once he had bottomed out, but stayed still for a beat or so - most likely more than aware of his size, and the fact that Mickey hadn’t had any prep right before.

 

The kiss didn’t slow down, though - Mickey continued devouring Ian’s lips, enjoying the way that his cock felt inside of him. Then Ian - fucking finally - moved. He rocked his hips, pulling his cock out of Mickey until only the tip was resting inside, and then he got an even firmer grip around the bottom’s thighs, rolling back in and swallowing Mickey’s muffled scream at the sensation.

 

Mickey tugged even harder at the red hair, Ian repeating the action, fucking Mickey up against the wall at a fast pace, quite successfully pushing anything and everything out of their minds all at once; all that was left was their movements and the way that they somehow fit together. Mickey tightened his legs around Ian’s waist, groaning uncontrollably into his mouth, their tongues sliding over each other’s. Mickey knew that he would have bruises all over his back tomorrow from the way that Ian was throwing him up against the wall with every thrust, but at the moment, there was no way in hell he cared. He just wanted it more, he wanted it -

 

“Harder, fuck” Mickey cursed against Ian’s tongue before biting his bottom lip, swallowing his tongue again, feeling him start to obey his command, fucking into him with even more force, both of them starting to become out of breath by now, their hearts beating against their ribcages as if they were both sixteen years old, pleasure coursing throughout them both.

 

Mickey tried to tug Ian even closer to him, wanting him as pressed up against him as he could possibly come.

 

“Fuck” Ian swallowed Mickey’s groaned word, starting to moan a little bit too loudly himself. “Shut up” Mickey cursed, realizing that it was a small house and going around it might hold them out of sight, but they still had to be quiet. Ian hummed, deepening the kiss with teeth and tongue in an effort to do just that as he continued thrusting inside of Mickey again and again, feeling his hand pull even more at his hair.

 

It didn’t take very long at all before they both came, moaning into each other’s mouths, bodies shaking and crickets singing.

 

  
***

  
Mickey swallowed, looking up into the white ceiling of his bedroom. The same one he had been looking up into since he had been a little boy who didn’t know what sex was. Now he did. And he had fucked the guy he used to babysit. Fuck. In the darkness and the hotness and the night scenery, it hadn’t seemed like a terrible idea. Ian was an adult now - well, he was eighteen, at least. It wasn’t as if Mickey had committed a crime, or like he was sick or some shit. But now, in the daylight it just seemed… wrong again.

 

Mickey could still feel him inside of him, could hear the muffled moans against his tongue and remember the way his hands had clutched his thighs, throwing him back against that wall - fuck his back still hurt from it. It had been amazing - the best sex he had ever had, no doubt. And his stomach had fluttered kind of weirdly as well.

 

The problem was - what did he do now? What were they now?

 

Mickey was ashamed to admit it, but after they had been done, Ian had given him one more kiss and Mickey had asked him to give him a few minutes to himself. Then when Ian had been out of sight, he had just hurried back to his own house and he had gone to bed. It was pathetic - surely he had hurt Ian, or at least made him confused. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was Mickey who was in the wrong here.

 

Or was he in the wrong?

 

Fuck if he knew, either way it felt strange. Fucked up. Fucked up because it should feel wrong and fucked up because Mickey could deny it a million and one times over, but last night - with Gallagher’s mouth on his own and his hands on his body - it had felt anything but wrong. And how fucked up was that? This was the kid that had put all of the blue sugary shit all over the house - for some reason what’s the biggest thing Mickey could remember, maybe because it was the most childish thing he had done on a regular basis way back when.

 

In Mickey’s mind, that little redheaded boy with the freckles and the curls still existed, still could walk through the front door. But he should realize that that wasn’t the truth - that little boy was gone and in his place was this tall, broad fucking smoking hot… man. And - as if on fucking que three knocks rang from the front door into the house, Mickey sighing. He knew who knocked like that. The knocks were darker now, and further up on the door, but he knew them. Fuck.

 

He considered not getting it - he shouldn’t get it. But for some reason Mickey’s body moved anyway, pushing himself off of the bed and stumbling out into the livingroom, dressed in one of his regular black muscle tees along with a pair of his light grey sweatpant-shorts. It wasn’t all too early - maybe nine or ten - but Mickey was fucking exhausted. And his ass hurt. And his back hurt. And his head hurt from all of this thinking, and - his mind went blank when he opened the door, looking up at him.

 

Ian - of course - was standing outside, that same olive green shirt thrown over his upper body - it was the exact same one, not just one like it, because Mickey could see the places on the chest where he had pulled. Ian had slept in it - or he had thrown it off and then put it back on, fuck if Mickey knew. He couldn’t quite read the look on his face, maybe he was nervous or pissed off, or confused - maybe all of it at once.

 

“What’s up, man?” Mickey knew that it was a lame way to say hello - he owed him some kind of explanation at the very least. They both knew it.

 

“You disappeared last night” Mickey swallowed - how was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to explain this without making Ian too upset, or - fuck. He was still thinking of Ian like a little kid, he realized. Ian was nineteen, he could take this without having it coated in sugar.

 

“Gallagher, that shouldn’t have happened. Man, it was wrong - of me. You… I used to babysit your ass, man. We can’t fuck” Mickey couldn’t quite remember the last time he had said these many words all at once, but there they were. All of his cards on the table - it was the truth and nothing but it. So why did it feel as if he was lying. And why did his heart hurt so bad when Ian’s face fell? Fuck. He remembered that frown. It used to show up when Mickey said that he didn’t have any fucking popsicles left.

 

“I’m not a fucking kid anymore” Ian stated.

 

“I know - “

 

“I drive, you know that right? I can even spell my name on the refrigerator” Mickey continued looking up at him; he had assumed that he would be pissed off to no end - but he was just joking. Smiling. Probably hoping that he could convince Mickey to change his mind, and the worst part was, as Mickey looked into those green eyes - he realized that it wouldn’t take much at all to do just that.

 

“Still wrong though” Mickey swallowed, both faces falling. “Even if we hadn’t known each other back then, man, I’m almost thirty. You’re eighteen. It’s just - “

 

“Mickey” Ian cut Mickey off by taking a step closer to him, his right arm wrapping around his waist, left hand resting against the side of his neck. Mickey didn’t fight back - the way his stomach was tingling, the way his throat was drying out - he didn’t want to fight back. “I want you. I want to be with you. Does this feel wrong? Would it feel wrong, or are you just running away because you think that it should feel wrong?”

 

Mickey swallowed, mind blank. Ian’s hands were on his body again, flashes of last night running throughout his head. Ian wasn’t that little boy anymore, he had to remind himself of that. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Ian was almost nineteen years old, so if they both wanted this… then… Ian took Mickey’s silence as an answer, his face relaxing, mouth forming a soft smile.

 

“I want to take you on a date” His eyes left Mickey’s for a second, flickering down to his lips before returning.

 

“A fucking date?” Mickey asked, digging his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip, placing his hands onto Ian’s chest, curling a few of his fingers around the collar of the shirt. Ian just nodded, humming.

 

“I’ll pick you up at eight” With that, Ian leaned down and captured Mickey’s lips in an open mouthed, easy and perfect kiss. Just like that he turned around, walking away again, looking way more proud and happy than before.

 

Mickey continued biting his tongue, trying to suppress the grin that he felt coming on as he backed up into the house again, closing the front door. Maybe he would have to get used to the idea of being in a relationship with the guy he used to babysit all those years ago. Because there was no fucking way in ice cold hell that he would be able to shake his feelings for him now.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this weird? Let me know.


End file.
